


This Is Not The Muse You're Looking For

by dementor_ssc



Series: Transcendence AU drabbles [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Demon Summoning, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:56:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6668587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementor_ssc/pseuds/dementor_ssc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An aspiring writer wants to summon a muse to ask for inspiration.</p><p>A Transcendence AU fanfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not The Muse You're Looking For

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Zhoksarm art on the Transcendence AU Tumblr (http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/tagged/zhoksarm).

The candles didn't even flicker.

According to the book, the sacrifice should disappear in a puff of golden smoke.

It didn't.

Great. So much for this idea. She might as well abandon all her stupid, lousy dreams and quit the writing classes and just - just become another office drone and start a family or whatever. Just another cookie cut to be the same as everyone else.

She was never going to make it. So she might as well just give up now and spare herself the trouble.

Her eyes stung. It had been a desperate, stupid idea anyway. Summoning a muse? If it was so easy, anyone would do it. Of course the ritual had been a fake. Damn it, she was so _stupid_ sometimes.

With an angry swipe she threw the half-finished novel on  the floor. It landed on top of the sacrifice - a goblet of red wine, because apparently she was an idiot who believed creepy websites when they said you could summon muses with wine - and the wine splashed the pages, the goblet rolling away.

She looked at her book - _no, **not** a book, it was never going to be a book because it was never going to be finished_ \- as it lay in a puddle of dripping red. There they were. All her hopes and dreams of becoming a succesful writer. A mess.

Her computer screen flickered and went black. Great. Now even her computer was giving up on her. It was probably a sign or something.

She gave her screen a few thumps but it stayed black. The lights in the room started flickering too. An electric problem maybe? Good thing she had lit those candles, because -

Wait.

Her book was gone.

In its place was a mass of darkness, and it was growing.

She was rooted to the floor, unable to move for sheer terror. This... did not look like a muse.

The darkness grew arms - way too many arms! - and that was all she could see before the candles went out completely.

Shimmering lights, winding and swirling like distant galaxies. As if there was a somewhat human-shaped hole in the world, allowing her a glimpse of the star-filled dimensions behind and between what people laughingly call 'reality'.

Colour, vibrant and in all the hues of the rainbow and perhaps even more than the human eye could see, bled through the turning galaxies and painted the many hands of the being in front of her. And it opened its eyes - all fifteen of them.

"₩ⱧØ ₵₳ⱠⱠ₴ ₣ØⱤ ⱫⱧØ₭₴₳Ɽ₥ ₮ⱧɆ ₩Ɇ₳VɆⱤ, ₴₱ł₦₦ɆⱤ Ø₣ ₲₳Ⱡ₳ӾłɆ₴, ₱Ʉ₱₱Ɇ₮ɆɆⱤ Ø₣ ₮₳ⱠɆ₴?"

Oh boy.

She found her voice and was embarressed how high it sounded. "I, uh, it was I, oh great one." Was that the proper answer? This was _so_ not a muse!

Those eyes felt like they could look into her soul. They probably could. Should she just... stick to the plan?

"Er... I summoned you - I guess? - because I am in need of, of inspiration. I love to write. It's always been my passion. And I always wanted to become a famous and loved - and okay, also rich - writer. Published and stuff. But lately I, I don't know. The words don't come as they used to. Whenever I force myself to write, it goes horribly, I can't get any further along in the story, and it all feels wooden and stupid and I _hate_ it. And sure, I know - every artist thinks their art is worse than it really is. They say it's normal to hate your work. But it used to be a bit like love too, you know? I hated it, but I also _loved_ it. I loved making it, spending time with my characters, and sometimes the words would just come without seemingly any input at all from me and those were the best times, when it wasn't me writing the story but the story was - like it was being born through me. If that sentence makes sense. Aaargh! This is exactly what I mean, I can't even explain myself anymore!"

She took a deep breath. The star-lit being was still silent, arms loosely at its sides, those colourful eyes watchful and completely unreadable.

"I want to love my writing again, and I want the world to love my writing. Or well, maybe not the _whole_ world because let's be realistic here, haters gonna hate right? But a large chunk of the world. I want to write a book that will be published and that will draw huge crowds of fans. People dressing up as my characters. Writing fanfiction of them, even! I want to write a book so _amazing_ someone will still remember it in a thousand years!" Another deep, shaky breath. "So that's what I want. Can you give this to me?"

She was prepared to offer a lot. Maybe not her soul.

Maybe.

"ł ₴Ⱨ₳ⱠⱠ ₲Ɽ₳₦₮ ɎØɄ ₮ⱧɆ ł₦₴₱łⱤ₳₮łØ₦ ɎØɄ ₴ɆɆ₭ ₳₦Đ ɎØɄ ₴Ⱨ₳ⱠⱠ ₩Ɽł₮Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ ฿ØØ₭ ɎØɄ ₩ł₴Ⱨ ₣ØⱤ, ₳ ฿ØØ₭ ₮Ø ĐⱤ₳₩ ⱠØVł₦₲ ₵ⱤØ₩Đ₴ Ø₣ ₣₳₦₴ ₳₦Đ ł₮ ₴Ⱨ₳ⱠⱠ ฿Ɇ ⱤɆ₥Ɇ₥฿ɆⱤɆĐ ₳ ₮ⱧØɄ₴₳₦Đ ɎɆ₳Ɽ₴ ⱧɆ₦₵Ɇ."

"And in return?"

"ł ₴Ⱨ₳ⱠⱠ Ⱨ₳VɆ ɎØɄⱤ ĐɆVØ₮łØ₦."

"Do you mean... my soul?"

"₴łⱠⱠɎ ₥ØⱤ₮₳Ⱡ, ₩Ⱨ₳₮ Ʉ₴Ɇ Ⱨ₳VɆ ł ₣ØⱤ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ? ł₮ ł₴ ɎØɄⱤ **₮ł₥Ɇ** ł ₵Ɽ₳VɆ - ₮ⱧɆ ₱Ɽł₵Ɇ ₣ØⱤ ł₦₴₱łⱤ₳₮łØ₦ ł₴ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ ฿ØɄ₦Đ ₮Ø Ʉ₴Ɇ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ł₦₴₱łⱤ₳₮łØ₦, ₦Ø₮ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₴₮ Ʉ₦₮łⱠ ɆVɆⱤɎ Ʉ₦฿ØⱤ₦ ₳Ɽ₮₩ØⱤ₭ ₲ł₣₮ɆĐ ₮Ø ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳₴ Ɇ₦₮ɆⱤɆĐ ₮ⱧɆ ₩ØⱤⱠĐ."

"So, the price for inspiration and writing the book I want is... I have to write a book? I have to use any inspiration I get to create, well, books and art and stuff?"

The being smiled. It was a demon's smile, all sharpness and dark glee.

"₵ØⱤⱤɆ₵₮. ₦Ø₩... ĐØ ₩Ɇ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₳ **ĐɆ₳Ⱡ**?"

It - they? - offered her one of their hands. It was lit with rainbow fire, the stars turning lazily in the blackness of its body.

She made her choice.

* * *

 

She opened up a fresh text file on her computer and started typing.  Inspiration flashed through her head and it was a bit like being on a rollercoaster, her heart pumping and her cheeks flushed and her fingers moving restlessly on the keys.

Demons. It was going to be about demons, and love, and creepy summonings and amazing odds and dreams that came true.

The title just came to her, like the rest of the words that were waiting to be put to the page. It was perfect, just like everything else about her book would be perfect.

_Twin Souls._

She loved it already.

\---


End file.
